The Trials of a Teenage Girl
by ne-ma-pa-sa-ra
Summary: Claire is ready to grow up. Will Quil ever let her? A Quil/Claire Story


**Chapter One: The Beginning**

I looked at the clock. Could the day have gone by _any _slower? The second hand seemed to stay uncharacteristically frozen, and downright torturous. Doodling in my notebook didn't even seem to help. Damn, all I got was a broken pencil and a perfectly ruined piece of paper.

I never looked forward to this time of the day. The last ten minutes, a mind-boggling twist of pleasure and pain. Fortunately, the bell rang. It seemed Simpson's diabolical lecture would be reserved for another day.

Even though I was at the back of the class, my foot always seemed to be the first one to cross the threshold. I ran through the hall carelessly, holding my binder in one hand and my water bottle in the other, evading the complaints of my other classmates. I streamed through the fast-growing crowd and went down the yet-to-be-full stairway. I crashed into the wall, took a deep breath and slid to the floor.

Dawn was looking down at me with an amused expression. "Look at what the cat dragged in," she said, a musical lilt in her voice.

She was a pain in the neck and also my best friend. Unable to vocalize my wit, I grunted like a caveman and got up. Our locker was already opened, conveniently enough. I did my magic, smiled at Dawn and broke out in a run – again.

"Bye!"

I sprinted down another flight of stairs and came to a halt in front of the office. I peered in and flashed a grin at the secretary, who responded with the usual shake of the head. I headed outside, stood in a corner and waited.

"Hey."

I turned around and looked up at Jordan Baker, the love of my life --- or the boy I'm obsessed with.

I was never one to fall so easily, or so hard. But Jordan gave me that disgusting butterfly feeling in the pit of my stomach. I've grown immune to it.

I was always afraid I'd say the wrong thing or utter something of a completely out-of-this-world language in front of him. I was known to do that once in a while. It was a nervous habit, I couldn't help it.

So I did the 'nod'. You know the one.

But as always, I ended up twisting my neck the wrong way and looked like a horse with a broken collarbone. Hopefully, I looked like an attractive horse with a broken collarbone.

I took the plunge and let the little words _what's_ and_ up_ to slip out.

He grinned and said nothing, as per usual. But it's okay if he's lacking a little in the upstairs department, his looks fill that void. And I'm pretty intelligent. We'd make a lethal combination.

"So I was wondering," – _a good start_ – "if you'd want to go" – _even better_ – "with me" – _don't sto_---

"Cl_ai_re!"

No.

"Claireeeee!"

NO!

"Claire, I swear to Go-"

Crash. And. B_ur_n.

And right on time, there goes my chance at ever going out with Jordan. Or any other guy – in my entire life. I looked at the car parked in front of the school. And half of the student body seemed to be looking in my direction. Embarrassed, I grumbled a quick goodbye to Jordan and walked towards the red pick-up truck.

What was the point of growing up if I was still being treated like a two-year-old?

I opened the door and got in. Glared a little and slammed the door for effect. All the effort I made of having enough time to hang out with Jordan was for nothing.

"Done with the hissy fit?"

"Not – even - close," I bit back, looking at the idiot for the first time. His hair was longer than the last time and his skin a little darker. His plaid shirt was unbuttoned, with a wife beater underneath, and the sleeves rolled up. He was the only person I knew who would wear a shirt-shorts combo in the middle of February. I was cold enough with a sweater and my jacket on.

He was surely crazy.

"I refuse to let you talk to that boy," he firmly stated matter-of-factly and straight to the point. As if I didn't know he'd bring it up.

"Sure," I answered.

"I'm serious," and he looked at me sternly for affect. I rolled my eyes and leaned back on my seat as the car rolled out of the school parking lot. A let the wind in through the cracked window and closed my eyes. I replayed the scene with Jordan in my head and got frustrated. I balled my fists at each side of me and cringed inwardly.

Quil Ateara was going to be the death of me.


End file.
